


Equivalent Exchange

by izumi_kamikura



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Incest, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:55:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izumi_kamikura/pseuds/izumi_kamikura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which ecto-shenanigans allow for one than one form of Strider-ly exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> By the closing of this fanfic every combination of stridercest will be explored. Thoroughly. Do enjoy.

He fucking knew better and that was the hardest fact that you desperately clung to. He knew not to go there; not to cross that imperceptible boundary and waltz right on the fuck in without a decent care in the world. In fact, you recently entertained the idea that he hadn't the gumption to do it. You thought that maybe, however fucked over in the head he could be that even the slimmest, most disrespected moral still survived deep inside that jackass's head. Guess you were completely wrong about that, now weren't you.

"Listen, I was drunk. I didn't mean it. Wasn't like you'd fought anyhow."

Shuddering against his previous words and trying frantically to erase them from your mind was close to impossible. They stuck with you irrevocably, like some kind of overplayed summer one-hit wonder, repeating its beat over and over and over and over and over and over—

"Dave?" she shattered your thoughts softly, if at all possible. But she was Rose, and as evidence supplied, she could do anything. Even take your mind off it for at least one delicious second. "When you feel organized enough to share, I'm open to you." she finishes, running her slim fingers through your white blonde hair affectionately.

You mumble a reply, something indistinguishable that made no words yet spoke elite volumes. You'd get around to sharing the reason for barging into her home without invite at ungodly hours of the night sooner or later. Hopefully later, as at the moment all you wanted was the peace she offered into your thoughts. You snuggled closer, wrapping your left arm around her torso and shifting your legs closer to the back of the couch.

She continued stroking your hair once you'd found yourself suitably comfortable with your head in her lap and body stretched out across the couch. Rose never minded your visits. Furthermore a part of you always wondered if she could somehow sense you'd arrive here, even when it happened to be your unexpected drop by. Your eyelids felt heavy with the horridly needed sleep you'd yet to invest in and as she began humming—humming something indistinctly familiar—your body began to give up the nonessential fight of consciousness.

"Rose?" you moan, allowing your crimson eyes to drift closed while you turned you head only slightly to get a better look at her. Her own lavender eyes were cloaked as well as she breathed her song under her breath and stroked your corn silk hair. After a slight pause she replies, leisurely lifting the hem of your T-shirt and beginning a award worthy back scratch that came damn near close to making you forget exactly what you'd meant to say.

"Yes? Have you reconsidered?" Rose asked, gradually running her nails across the bare surface of the small of your back. Your silence makes her shift slightly out of reflex. What was if that you were going to ask? It was so important…wasn't it?

Your eyeslids dropped for the last time that night and your body suddenly felt like it heavily weighed tons. Mumbling under your breath before remembering you then answered in a hushed tone. "I came here so sudden because I needed to—to just get away from there a while." You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, the cause of your stay now stringing up on the backs of your eyelids.

"I understand." She answered and a part of you wholly believed her soothing words. You wanted to desperately. But you knew she couldn't honestly comprehend how you felt and just how tragically this entire ordeal had transpired. It was impossible, you reasoned, because not even you could absolutely come to terms with what you'd done.

"No, no Rose you don't." you grumble balling your fists in your eyelids and vehemently attempting to scrub the images behind them away. They wouldn't leave; were permanently imprinted there in radical ink. You hesitantly drew in a shaky breath that racked your body with a shuddering trembling that began in your chest.

"You don't." you repeat biting down on your lip and wishing against all that you could forget who had bitten that lip only hours ago. It killed you to remember it. Perhaps because of the emotions that accompanied it or maybe it was due to the lack of disgust you felt toward him. Either way, you had to—needed to—tell her. You didn't care if you were being unreasonably selfish; wanting more than anything to hand off your burdens to someone else. But you had to say it before it ate you from twisted inside to bruised out.

"I fucking madeout with Bro. How could anyone understand that?!"

"Brrrrooooo? What's up for chow tonight?" you groaned, pilfering through the sparse contents of the fridge and decidedly coming up empty. Nutella, Applejuice, block o' cheese, two katanas, and Ketchup. Damn. You needed to go grocery shopping pronto.

"Fuck it. Ordering pizza." You shout back into the living room where the indistinct jabbering of Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash dueling it out with snappy comebacks and equestrian puns. Without another thought you headbutted the fridge door closed and turned promptly on you heel towards the living room.

"Do you have any cash for…" you trailed off noticing his current unconscious status sprawled across the couch. You'd been calling at him for the past ten minutes about tonight's dinner menu, oblivious to the fact that he'd clocked out. One gloved hand rested on his chest that rose and fell in even, sporadic breaths that were deeper than the state of sleep he'd fallen into. Lying on his back with his other arm braced behind his head and discreet black hat pulled down over his face you knew the chances of waking him were slim.

"Pppsssstt…" you hiss, nudging his knee with your foot and yearning not even a single grunt of awakening. You pull your face to a displeased frown while crossing your arms over your chest and sauntering closer. Skeptical you surveyed him with obvious interest. Shades removed and lips parted for air you could have believed he was bluffing. A well disguised ambush could come from anywhere.

"Bro. Wake up. Hungry." You elaborate reaching up your hand to grasp the wire frame of your own shades and slipping them off. Aimlessly you twirled them between your fingers, considering slipping his wallet from his pocket. It'd be awkward and would require the skill of a trained assassin since it was in the back pocket he lay on. His left side to be exact. You deepened your frown from over here on his right side where you stood.

Challenge accepted.

You folded your shades and hung them on the collar of your T-shirt silently while harboring a fresh smirk on your face. Moving as quietly as possible you brace you knee in the couch cushion and grabbed the back of the couch for support. You bit your tongue lightly, gradually nearing your hand to his pocket you glance back at his impassive face. So far so good, you reason irrationally.

Freezing place you heard him groan softly either from sensing your presence or the god awful stampede going on from the TV. You swung your head around to give your best glare to RaindowDash and the stupid dragon thingy. Changing your attack plan you hastily reached over towards the inntable beside the couch and clutched the remote in your right hand. You flicked off the television and release the breath you hadn't realized you were holding when the silence again filled the room.

You could faintly hear the osculating fan running and the perpetual hum of the apartment building. The soothing sounds were accompanied by the general noises of the city outside. You absently chucked the remote at the matching recliner and flinched when it didn't produce the dull thump you'd intended. Well. Shit.

You felt him stirring at the plastic clattered to the floor and shattered apart. The batteries rolled across the floor and came to deafening stop against the far wall. Seriously?! "mhh, Dave…?" he mumbles reaching the hand that had been lying on his chest to clumsily grab for the hat obscuring his eyes. Shit~

You panic, shoving your hand into his pocket and retrieving the black leather wallet without a second to spare. He tensed knocking the hat from his face and unveiling a skeptical expression and narrowed eyes. You quickly tried to move away only succeeding in your inevitable capture.

"What are you doing?" he barks securing a hand around your forearm and shifting uncomfortably. You watch apprehensively forming a response that slipped from your mouth before you could bit back your impulsive tongue.

"Yoga." You say biting your lip afterwards and tightening your fist in the beige fabric of the cushions. He rolls his eyes shaking his head slightly and retorting with a disbelieving gruff. "At one A.M.?" you pause taking your eyes off him to glance at the large gear clock at the end of the hallway and finding out that it was indeed such a late hour. No wonder you were starving.

"Well. Y'know. Early bird catches the worm, right?" you reply with a toothy smile you hoped he'd believe. Yet you were caught dead, you vaguely realize as you notice his eyes flick to his wallet in your hand. You see his demeanor change as he draws in another breath in a condescending fashion you knew would be fuel for a parental lecture.

"Were you trying to steal money?" he asks accusingly raking his eyes over your bluffing face and back to his wallet. Your face reddens as you see the blatant disappointment darkening his eyes. You lick your lips before replying quickly. "What? No! Or, ah, not exactly." You falter and look away from his examining gaze. Sitting back on his hips despondently you finish by tossing the leather wallet back at him.

He caught it with one hand while the other opened it quizzically. "Then what were you doing, Dave?" he asks again, folding it closed and dropping it on the inn table. He turned his attention back to you as you crossed your arms over your chest and replied angrily. "I was just getting money to pay for the pizza I ordered, jackass."

It might not have bothered you as much if he hadn't had to check, just to make sure your word could be backed up. One misread gesture and you'd lost some of his valuable trust. "And you couldn't of just asked?" he snaps furrowing his eyebrows and watching you with faint amusement. "You were asleep." You say rolling your eyes and knowing you must have looked like a tantrum throwing three year old.

"You could have woke me up." He finishes mocking your pouting face. Your expression then just as quickly shifts to a dark frown that he mirrors. You grind your teeth as he crosses his arms over his chest and gazes back superiorly. "Fuck, stop watching me like that." You growl through your teeth shifting your weight and leaning forward as to get off him.

"Language." He scolds promptly grabbing your arm and holding you by your intense glare. Speaking of, you realize with a ping of concern, guess whose shades were removed? You could feel the almost imperceptible weight of them leave your shirt collar as he filches them from you.

Immediately, you're put on edge watching him fiddle with your sacred property. "Give them." You threaten in your demand snatching for them only to have him jerk away. You lose your balance for a moment, mortified when you fall forward to brace yourself on the arm of the couch.

He chooses not to ignore that split second snip of humiliation in your exposed eyes. That was something you could see lit a spark of amusement in his tangerine eyes. God you hoped he wasn't going to play another one of his fucking games with you. With a sickening feeling sinking into your gut, you realized he would.

"You'll have to get them yourself, David." He chased, clicking his tongue and shaking his head at you lightly. You narrowed your eyebrows at him, not giving a single fuck if he knew how displeased with this fresh turn of events you were. And more importantly a part of you hoped he would drop it seeing your disapproval.

Apparently, to your understanding, he didn't. Biting down on your tongue you almost hid the yelp of pain when he promptly pulled his knees up, forcing you to sit straighter while pushing you forward. You wouldn't admit defeat and he knew it. However only he would know to use that against you.

"Is there a problem?" he asks innocently while digging his knees into your shoulder blades. You plaster a sneer to your face and try to keep your voice straight when you reply. "Not at all." You adjust your seat and arch your back forward lessening the pain in your joints and back. He smirks back at you cracking his knuckles and finishing. "Good to know."

With a grunt of effort he pushed you back with a forceful shove to the chest. You teeter of balance before falling back onto the couch between his outstretched legs. You snarl at the knee that still dug into your shoulder blade as you try to move your weight from his lap. Frankly, you had hoped he would actually drop it.

Sitting up with a chuckle you watched powerless as he set his hands on the top of your thighs, rubbing the leather palms of his fingerless gloves across the black denim of your jeans. You swallow back a crude insult and prop yourself on your elbows behind you. Immediately, your face blushes rosy when you notice his reason for laughing at your humility.

Fuck, did he really have to put you in this…position? "Get off, Bro!" you shout at him, losing your composure for a moment when he slides his knees forward. It forced your own knees apart more and only allowed him to dig his into your lower back. He smirks lightly when you brace yourself on the cushions and move back.

He stops you by leaning forward and removing his wondering hands from your thighs. Instead he cages you in by gripping the arm rest behind you. With a surge of pleasure you found yourself titling your head back against that arm rest; right between his hands. You bit your lip to restrain the strained moan aching to force its way from your throat.

What the fuck was wrong with you? He was practically molesting you and yet were you enjoying this? His eyes searched your face as you cheeks flushed scarlet to match your darting eyes. You avoided his orange iris like the plague and instead focused on the blades of the ceiling fan idly spinning against the Texas heat. Out of the corner of your eye you see him tilt his head to the side and examine you further.

"Are you enjoying me, Dave?" he asks with controlled bemusement. He didn't sound the least bit surprised by your reaction to him and frankly that irked you more than what he was doing to you. "Fuck no! Get off!" you spat at him, leaning back and trying to shift from his hold. Your attempts were futile. Moving from his hold only tightened his grip. And brought him down on you more.

"You aren't even trying." He chides you as you promptly stop your struggles. Digging your heels into the small of his back and arching yours to loosen his grip. You throw your head back and groan in frustration as your eyes squeeze shut. Without your notice his face now hovered inches above your exposed throat.

"Admit it and I promise I'll stop." He hisses before his tongue darts out against your year. Immediately your protests are cut off by your blatant surprise as he then wastes no time in trailing his mouth down your throat and along the side of your jaw. Your breathing becomes labored and your fists ball in the white fabric of his polo while he then moves to stare you in the eyes. Jegus fuck you hoped he didn't—

You gasped against his mouth when it suddenly crushed against yours. In defiance you make yourself purse your lips in a firm line and squeeze your eyes closed against the scene unfolding before you. Trying to turn you head away, you feel his hand promptly gripping your jaw to hold you in place. Shit shit shit shit!

Without warning he rolls his hips forward causes your eyes to fly open in surprise and pleasure just as your mouth opens for a strained moan. He took his opportunity and molded his mouth to yours. Tongue finding yours with skill he then showed you just how well he was at this. Your bitten down nails dug into his back as he braced himself against the arm rest and suddenly thrust his hips forward.

You saw the black spots invade your vision as he broke away in response to your cry of release. You grind your teeth hating how good—great—amazing—this felt. "D-don't—" you were cut off with your own substantial treachery.

Your will was crushed when your own body betrayed you when your hands moved you're his sides and instead moved to his neck. Your left hand clawed into his thick blonde hair with the other roughly gripped the back of his neck.

Pulling his hair you force him back to you, stunned with your own actions. His mouth opened against yours hotly to subsequently steal your breath. At this, you indistinctly felt his hands leaving the arm rest to catch the hem of your shirt. Your fists pulled at his hair as some silent order as the supple leather of his gloves pressed against the area above your navel.

Without your consent, you notice the curious hand that had pushed your T-shirt to your shoulder was inching back toward your jeans button. Fuck, were you really ready for that? Honestly, it more than likely wasn't that big of an issue for him, you reasoned. He'd had plenty of experience that showed in how he handled you. No matter how forceful.

Your hands loosen in his hair and your lip trembles against his almost imperceptibly when he unbuttons your jeans, yet he still notices. Without a second thought he removes that hand from your unzipped and unbuttoned jeans. Maybe he cared more than you thought? It certainly didn't see like he did, from your perspective that is.

"Shit." He groans pulling away from your mouth and bracing himself on the arm rest of the couch once more. He watches you catching your breath as he gradually does the same while his eyes scan your face. Your hands had fallen from his hair and now rested in white knuckled fists on your bare torso. A red blush lights your cheeks as he continues to stare at your flustered face.

That sick bastard must really enjoy this, you thought moving to prop yourself on your elbows as to move out from under him. It only brings you closer to him as well as intensifies the scarlet sheen spreading across your cheeks and flushing the constellations of freckles there. You slum on one forearm and use your free hand to push against his chest.

"Alright this time," you draw in a shaky breath and continue in a severely tremulous voice. "seriously; get off." He seems to come back to his senses at blinks slowly at you. You couldn't read his face, as if nothing was new. Clearing your throat to break the practically tangible silence you added in a steadier voice.

"Bro—" he cut you off, suddenly dipping back down to your mouth. The breath caught in your throat and forced a strained moan to push its way from your mouth. Was he going back on his promise or did he believe you weren't being sincere in telling him to stop? You hoped for the latter yet another scenario picked at the back of your mind.

You remained supported by your forearms while his palm pressed roughly into your back. Allowing your eyes to drop closed again and your lips to part, you decidedly surrendered. Screw all this fighting. Besides, hadn't you wanted attention in the first place?

You gave a hiss of pain when the door buzzer sounded, taking him off guard and causing him to bite your lower lip. Without a second to spare he pulls away and directs his present awareness towards the rust painted door of the apartment. The buzzer sounds again, alerting you to the visitors amounting impatience.

Fuck. The pizza.

"I'll get it." You snap, shoving with all your adrenaline charged strength against his chest. With a displeased groan he moves back to kneeling over top of you. Vehemently avoiding any eyecontact and untangling your legs from his took enough time for the delivery boy to grow especially imprudent and now bang his fist against the door.

By the time you were scrambling off the couch and zipping your jeans, he'd taken to shouting. "Two large pineapple pep's for complex D19! Give me my fucking twenty-seven fifty; I got another order—" swinging the door open you caught one look at the pimply teens stunned face before you blew past him. Bro could handle the pizzas. You'd decidedly lost your appetite.

You didn't even bother with the elevator, having no time for it. Instead you mounted the stairs and squinted against the harsh fluorescents trailing you from the ceiling. You'd neglected to grab your shades, cell, or any other necessary article of your behalf. You knew he wouldn't call anyway as he'd already guessed your destination set for Rose's house the moment you sped from the apartment.

However, it occurred to you that you should warn her about your visit well past midnight. She'd be furious, you thought as the rhythmic pounding of your converse slapping against the pavement beat in your ears along with your thumping heart. You should probably stop running, look for traffic, and catch your breath. You should probably turn your cowardly ass right around and march back to that complex.

You should probably do a lot of things yet parking your ass on Rose's couch was blurring all those other seeming insignificant details.


	2. Today's Agenda

"What the hell are you doing here?" that unreasonable anger flared within you once more at the slightly mortifying realization that one such blonde was standing—poised to attack your perverse thinking—in your room. He did neither flinched nor showed any sign of taking your words crudely. No anger at your rudeness or displeasure at your less than euphoric greeting.

This carbon copy of Bro was the shit.

"Congrats. I'm here in awe to applaud your blatant stupidity. Now get up." He barks voice betraying his irritation yet only marginally and crossing his arms over his chest irately. So he wasn't exactly alike to your brother, was he? Some things, however infinitesimal, were off about him.

"I'm honored," you answered while putting a hand to your chest and raising your eyebrows incredulously. Fuck. You weren't wearing your shades. That tiniest, most insignificant realization briefly flitted through your crimson eyes yet in that moment he'd caught it.

You ground your teeth when a muscle twitched in his jaw and brought to the surface a light smirk. That was the thing about Strider's—the chink in their seemingly flawless armor—that their bullet proof facades didn't extend to their eyes. Why would it when you didn't have to constantly fret over someone seeing them if you always wore your shades?

Evidently it was his fault for waking you at such an ungodly hour of the morning and a glorious, sunlight powdered Saturday at that. The wee hours of a Saturdays rosy dawn were far too farcically indecent for your eyes. You'd much rather prefer the blisteringly heated noon. Or afternoon, even.

"Keen. Now get up." He growled impatiently and nudging your leg that hung haphazardly off your mattress with his bare foot. Eh, shoes? Well make yourself at home. You glanced down quizzically at feet before shifting in your bed. You braced yourself on your elbows behind you and took one moment to glean any information on his behalf.

It wasn't exactly the first time you'd met him face to face. There had been a time or two in game when he'd showed up and with Bro's bloody death still fresh in your mind, you'd put most of your effort into not gawking at Dirk. Yet now, after what had happened with your brother two nights ago, you found yourself hiding a scarlet blush rather than disbelieving stare. It was torture, and in the back of your mind you knew with certainty exactly why he was here.

"Why? What's on today's agenda?" you mock tiredly and showing no intention of moving your comfortably asserted posterior from the cozy bed it found bodily console in. Lazily you pop your neck and swing the leg he'd kicked idly. With interest you noticed the way he ground his teeth impatiently and tapped the fingers of his left hand. Was this a forefront? Or did he really find you intolerable? If so it seemed to you he'd be able to hide such discontentment with more skill.

"It's about to be kicking your ass if you don't get a move on." He replied uncrossing his arms only to gesture to you subtly. Narrowing your eyes, you find a smirk crawling across your features. "Is that a challenge?" you answer raising an eyebrow and sizing him up.

He looked to be unarmed save for the thin silver wallet chain on his black jeans that could prove a useful tool if needed. Other than that and the unknown level of skill in martial arts he no doubt possessed you wondered if you could take him. He was about your size, a few inches taller with a muscle tone that was lean and sinewy. Damn. He had great hair too.

"Could be." He snaps with a shrug while reaching up swiftly to remove his shades from his sneering face. It took you off guard and for a few fleeting moments you stared, stunned. So he had been faking his anger; only provoking you into a fight. Maybe he was more like your Bro than you gave him credit for.

"Good." You say before launching yourself at him. Your bed makes a suitable spring board as you jump for him, fist balled and at the ready. Calmly he tosses his shades onto the inn table beside your bed that housed your alarm clock, cell, applejuice bottles, and most importantly your shades. Then, as if omnisciently knowing your fighting technique, he blocks your fist with his forearm and wraps and arm around your waist to swing you around.

He diverted your momentum so that instead of pulling him down with you, your attack only slightly unsettled his stance whereas you were headed straight for the carpet. But that could be changed, now couldn't it? With a grunt you braced yourself into a successful roll that poised you perfectly to swipe for his legs.

Expecting such a turn of events he quickly jumped up in time for your calf to hit air instead of lean muscles and bone. You bit your lip knowing in nanoseconds he'd be in the perfect position for you to pull the rug out from underneath him. Literally.

"Fighting dirty?" he asks grunting when he hit the floor with a solid thump. You chuckled as you pushed the rug away from you before he decided to change to offense. You braced yourself when he crawled over top of you, putting a knee between your thighs and trapping you where you lay. You reached to push against his shoulders to no avail as he easily caught you by your wrists.

You arched your back upwards trying against all to push him off you or unsettle his balance. He only stumbles forward, pinning your arms above you and slumping to his elbows. "Just a little." You reply with a grin before realizing the double edged sword he'd obliviously displayed for your taking.

You choke back the hysterical laughter that threatens to overtake you when you swiftly shove your knee upwards into his package. The look on his face was priceless and left you with the means to easily escape his loosed grip. "Oh fuck you Dave." He chokes out with a moan of pain as you hastily scurry backwards out of his reach. "God, you're worse than Jake, you friggin barbarian. Does no one fight fair anymore?" he mumbled glaring at you angrily.

"Not really." You snap taking entertainment in the way he'd doubled over from your hit. It was certainly not something you could have pulled off with Bro. He would have already been digging your grave if you were lucky enough not to have your soiled cadaver chucked into the dumpster. Using such a cheap move meant anger and desperation; two hazardously impulsive emotions you were expected to expel from your rooftop battles.

They muddled the mind yet at the moment you lacked the gall to contain the unreasonable fury coursing through your veins. You couldn't be sure why you hated Dirk so much. It wasn't fair for him. Yet you merely found the clone to be a definite source for your anger. It was completely irrational, it was.

The smirk evaporated from your face and was replaced suddenly by astonishment when he moved to crouch and wrapped his fingers around your ankle. You yelped when he flashed you a furious glare. As if only to be a taste of what he would do to you he took to standing, bent over before he pulled you back across the floor.

God, were you going to have carpet burn, you though with a wince when your bare back gained friction against the floor. At least you were wearing your sweatpants, normally you might just have slept bare ass naked if the weather outside climbed through the roof. Now that would have made your scuffle a bit more interesting.

You kicked at him with the foot that wasn't currently being used as a wagon rod and succeeded in knocking him once hard in thigh yet not your intended target. He released you in the middle of the room and without a second to spare you jumped up, seething for retribution. "Now," he began holding up one hand to silence your lethal insults before putting a hand on his hip and continuing. "we can have honest fight. Nothing but martial arts."

You scrunch your face up, skeptical about his reasoning and the motivation behind it. "Honest, he says…" you mumble looking him over and crossing your arms over your bare chest. Seeing how seriously pissed he was now usually would of probably amused you, but right about now you were worrying if Rose would be able to patch you up after this quarrel.

"Yes, which may prove to be rather difficult for you." he snapped stealing a step closer and extending his hand. You glance down suspiciously before taking it in a confirming gesture. "Good." He adds with a lethal smirk that comes close to making you blush. Fuck, if he'd only put his shades back on it'd be at least a tad easier. But those unique orange irises's continually threatened to bore a hole through you.

"Call it." You say releasing his hand and bumping the bro fist he offered. You took a step back not even having a second to collect yourself before his fist flew into your jaw. Blood and spit sprayed from your mouth as your lip busted from his boney knuckles and sudden attack. You stumble back without warning, feeling his opposite hand grab a strong hold on your bicep to jerk you back around.

"Payback." He grinned using his forearm to shove you back with a chokingly placed strike to your throat. Your haggard coughing joined his laughter in the room as you fell back on your ass. Your quivering hand immediately went to your throat as you attempted to cough up a lung along with the blood from your lip.

"Alright, I'm good. Now we fight 'honest'." He mocked, curling his fingers into quotations around the word honest and then stooping to offer you a helping hand. You brushed him off, smacking his hand aside and unsteadily getting to your feet. Quickly you swiped the back of your hand across your mouth, smearing the blood and earning a hiss of tender pain.

"Nah, I still propose we fight dirty." You reply before cutting upwards with the palm of your hand. You'd meant to jam the blunt of it into his nose, breaking it and maybe even scrambling whatever brains he had left in his head. Yet once again your fist met air as he cunningly dodged your move.

You were really getting tired of this jackass's 'agile speed' and 'wits', you reasoned when the only thing you caught before you face planted into your own mattress was his amused sneering. Fuck. Wait, no. had he just—did he seriously—what?!

You scramble backwards on your mattress a look of fury crossing your face as your blush deepened to the crimson shade of your own eyes. "Did you just slap my ass?!" you shout leaning back on your elbows and kicking a pillow at him. You knew he had! It wasn't even the slightest bit subtle either! "Nope." He countered with a lie, following you onto your bed and slipping his hands under your knees.

You yelped in alarm when he suddenly pushed you legs up and kneeled between them. Your fists tightened in the sheets you had balled up when he arched forward and slid your ass into space between his thighs. "Cozy?" he asked pushing your legs on either side of his hips and resting his elbows on your knees.

Your heart was beating out of your chest and your breath was as labored as his was calm. You stared in complete disbelief as he only raised an eyebrow and acted as his making you lay in the ass fucking position was wholly normal. "What?" he says shooting you a look that dared you to even try any shit. "Couldn't risk you busting my balls again, now could I?"

You felt your face heating up to intense temperatures previously unknown to man and the hands that clutched the sheet trembling. You draw in another shaky breath, knowing full way there was absolutely no method of obscuring all the lewd shit going through your twisted little head. Why was he doing this to you?! Especially now, with what happened with Bro.

"He vented to me in case you're wondering." He started seemingly reading your mind and licking his lips before continuing. "Do you even realize how fucking stressed that made him? You flipping your shit and running off the Lalonde's girl without another word." He shook his head breaking eye contact with you for the first time and sighing in his frustration.

Your scarlet blush deepened as he turned back to you and finished. "Do you, Dave?" he spat but you could tell he was gradually cooling off. That is until he shifted his hips ever so slightly.

You gave a yelp of pleasure, completely catching him off guard and only embarrassing you further. Mortified you looked from his astonished and wide eyed expression to find great interest in the ceiling fan that indolently spun counterclockwise. Oh well. History was doomed to repeat itself. You bit your lip tasting that copper zing of fresh blood welling from your newly busted lip.

You focused on the metallic taste on your tongue only biting it harder when he moved again. You squeezed your eyes shut throwing your head back against the pillows when he firmly trailed his hands down the sides of your thighs, only stopping when one was squeezing the inside of your left thigh and the other grabbing your ass.

"Stop—just—just stop it, Dirk." You ground out in a strained moan as his knees slide forward and part both of your legs more. You could hear his breathing, it was heavier and the smallest bit quicker but you noticed. "Please." you croaked, hating the foul shriek that escaped your throat when he leaned forward. You could feel his breath licking the sensitive flesh of your abdomen and trailing down the exposed skin to your navel.

He pressed his mouth to the trembling area to the left of your button, taking the opportunity to begin a sizable hickie that elicited a stressed whine from deep within your throat. "Tell me again and I will, Dave." He mocked biting at a new place closer to your rib cage and sporadically squeezing the hand on the inside of your thigh. Another whimper told him just how close you were to breaking, only provoking him to push further.

His mouth moved further and hands pushed closer as you neared the point of giving in. You felt his teeth graze your hard nipple before it finally happened and he got just what he wanted. "Fuck ok!" you yowl after the hair rising moan had as a final point ripped from your throat. "Don't stop! Don't! Are you fucking happy now?!" you yelled breathlessly.

You felt him chuckle against the inside your neck as he lastly hid his face in the hollow of your neck. "Hard to say…" he trailed off letting his tongue trace the pattern of your ear before his labored breath added. "Why did you fight it in the first place?" he finished suddenly bucking his hips upwards with a grunt.

"Ah—Dirk! I-I don't know!? You just look—ahh fuck—s-so much like him." you cry, not caring if the neighbors heard, which you wagered they could as loud as you were yelling. Apparently he didn't either, only continuing rhythmically in a dizzying way that made you back slide up and down against the sheets. You'd held back long enough and finally with another cry your arms wrapped around him.

Indistinctly you heard his own hum of approval as your nails raked down his back. You feel him grinning against the soft skin of your neck even as he replied a little breathlessly. "How convenient." He paused to move his hips again and remove his hands to gripping your ass. "I'm not your Bro." He'd already dissolved you into intense arduous breathing and whimpered phrases that were mortifying close to desperate pleas.

He'd waited long enough for you, already.

His mouth crushed against yours while he released an unadulterated moan that stole your breath. Your right hand gripped the back of his neck; pulling his closer and making him tilt his head for a deeper angle. Your mouth opened against his finding sweet release when his tongue violently fought with yours. As you innately knew his preferences your remaining hand secured a fist full of his blonde hair and pulled roughly.

Something about the way he kissed— that rough way as if your rushed breathing was his only supply of adequate oxygen—made you believe what he wanted and persuaded you to do just that. Without a second thought your legs wrapped around him, crossing at the ankle. With a gasp of surprise he fell forward, catching himself on his forearms and releasing a bone shaking shiver that raced through his tensed body at your reaction.

His thighs had moved forward, falling on yours and showing you just how hard this sweaty situation was making him. It'd made you throw your head back against the pillows and let out a yowl of frustration. "What the fuck are you waiting for?!" you find yourself pleading as his mouth dips back to yours and sucks away the blood from your bottom lip. He releases your lip from between his teeth, choosing instead to catch his breath.

He sits up suddenly and stretches his arms behind him to pull his white t-shirt from over his head. Tossing it behind him he waited a moment, staring down at you and catching his breath. "You're absolutely sure? Not a doubt in your mind?" he asks while his hand moves to rest on his belt buckle. You suck your bottom lip, thinking as you notice the trembling in his own hands.

"Yeah I am. Now do it." You growl watching as he wastes not another second in unbuckling his belt and jeans. Your head rolls to the side as a wave of dizziness over comes you when he shoves his jeans down to his ankles and hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweats. "It'll hurt like hell." He warns trailing off when you move your hips up and allow him to slip the grey fabric of your pants away.

"I already said we'd fight dirty didn't I?"


	3. Take On An Interesting Challenge

"You've gotta be kidding me." he says grinning and cracking the door to your brothers room open a tad more for a better view of the spectacle inside. You lightly punch his arm gesturing for him to quiet down before he awoke one of the sleeping teens. With a smirk he glances back to you before shrugging and silently pulling door closed.

He raised an eyebrow at you before tilting his head towards the door and whispering, "You set this up?" you couldn't help the small smirk that formed on your lips at his less than subtle question. "Nope." You reply turning away from his disbelieving stare to walk down the hallway. He followed you to the kitchen chuckling despite your warnings to remain discreet.

"Does it not kinda freak you out?" he asks leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. You repress a sigh bending over to open the fridge and grab two beers. Damn. He acted almost exactly like Dave. Almost.

"How do you mean?" You ask absentmindedly popping the top off the two of them and handing one to his already outstretched hand. You licked your lips then continued in bringing the glass bottle to your mouth. Frankly, you didn't even enjoy the taste of alcohol all that much and the uneasy feeling you'd just had giving this Dave clone a beer made you edgy.

He was not your brother. He was like…twenty something. Not thirteen, and not a minor. You still couldn't help the feeling at you were handing your lil bro a cold one out of all parental context. Shrugging you take another swig, wondering faintly if he would answer you and if he would even finish his line of thought. Maybe he was thinking the exact same thing as you? Although with Dirk, that is.

"Oh come on, man. Like you aren't thinking their sweaty little fling was allegorically motivated." He said, coming out of his revere and setting his untouched beer aside on the counter. Maybe he didn't drink? Or maybe he felt that anxious edge of déjà vu that seemed to plague the air. Was he seriously bringing up incest? The fuck did this jackass have to be an alternate Dave?

"Or perhaps they were bored. If you ask me, my moneys on Dirk probably pressured him into it." You add letting a sneer answer his newly darkening frown. Oh great. He even had the same hairpin trigger temper.

"What? Hell no. He's not like that." He snaps back shaking his head and shifting uncomfortably in your intense stare. Looking back at you, now skeptical, he adds darkly "Why did you say that..?" he trails off somehow sensing there was more to it than you let on. Even being a stranger, he knew you all too well. You couldn't say that didn't make you slightly uneasy.

"Dave's not gay." You say watching him quizzically from behind your tinted shades. Or wasn't. You add thinking of the pair sprawled haphazardly and embarrassing nude in his bed. But enough of those nosebleed threatening thoughts, back to the matter at hand.

"Ok, neither is Dirk..?" he replies shakily and trying to keep his brain from jumping to conclusions. You freeze, bottle halfway to your lips before you brought it back down to set it on the counter as he had. What did he mean by that? Of course he was. For god's sake the kid was a yoai praising otaku extraordinaire with more NSFW fanfic's than you could count. Not even mentioning the fanart. The kid had skill.

"Is that right?" you ask as more of a statement than actual question. Did he even know about that trigger-happy English youngster he was constantly raving about? Clearly not. In fact you wondered just how much time he'd even invested in talking with your ecto self. No wonder he avoided conversations about his older brother like the plague.

"Yeah, I mean I thought he was dating that Lalonde chick or something." He admits, immediately recoiling from the statement as if he unexpectedly didn't believe it himself. You took a moment to mull this over. You should protect him, you reasoned, yet questioning if blatantly lying to Dirk's brother about his sexual preferences was a bad thing. It wasn't your secret to be told, anyhow, and therefore abruptly none of your business.

Change the subject, subtly. He's evidently a tad egotistical so play his narcissistic side. Brush off his apprehension, differ your body language, and match his easy obliviousness. Simple enough.

"We don't chat about it much." You shrug taking a sip of your beer before lightening your tone considerably. You gesture towards him impressively, raising your eyebrow and asking in an awed tone. "So are you producing that new action flick with Wilson?"

He immediately changes, shoulders unslumping and body releasing his tension. You were dreadfully wrong to of ever compared him to your lil bro. You knew he would have never of been so naïve. Maybe it was fame that caused him to become as self-absorbed as you deemed him or perhaps even the exclusive riches he no doubt possessed. Nice toys and pretty pennies couldn't help him out of a spider's lethal snare.

"Hells yeah. It's gonna be the shit. You want tickets, by the way, just call." He explained with a wide hand gesture to your gratified and interested façade. You nodded cracking a grin and forming an indulged response. Fake fake fake."Love to see it. With you directing it I'll wager it'll hit serious box office appeal." You assured him knowing that behind those Stiller shades his eyes would be full of pride ad approval of your curiosity.

He droned on about the expected statistics and various awards he figured he could bag at the upcoming Grammy's once his freshest movie premiered under Hollywood's limelight. You upheld your engrossed and fascinated expression, offering likewise inputs when needed. But the entire time your mind kept wondering to one new mission.

Get his shades off.

Your mind whispered it into your ear, making you restrain the euphoric smirk at a new challenge. It'd be a severe endeavor no matter how naturally comfortable with you he was swiftly becoming. You knew why he was taking to you so fast and with such little reason. Forming a bond with you would somehow bridge the gap of the practically nonexistent relationship he wanted with his brother.

There arose that pesky detail, once more. You weren't Dirk, and he kept forgetting. Too bad. You weren't going to allow him the peace of mind by thinking that resolving differences with you was doing so to him. But what if that was your ticket to ever so subtly coercing him into taking off his shades? Vaguely, you played out that potential situations route in your head.

It would work. You were sure of that. But it would require establishing that emotion connection to a lost 'brother' he'd always neglected attention to. It would mean allowing mental freedom as well as future difficulties when brushing off the numerous occasions he'd invite you to instead of Dirk; his real brother.

Furthermore you'd be lying to him, and creating the risk of him growing gradually angered by your purposeful disregard. It'd be retribution, though. Giving him just one taste of his own medicine, per se. Considering it wasn't as conveniently timely as another plan, it did pose quite the enticing game. The longer the game the more fun to be had and risk to be met.

"Hello? You there?" he asks waving a hand in your face that startled you from your thoughts. Out of reflex you grabbed his wrist in a viselike grip. The surprise and skepticism that instantaneously replaced his concern was indication enough. Well. There goes plan A.

"Yeah, sorry. Rough day. You were saying?" you try to amend your careless mistake after noticing his stunned expression. You follow his assumed gaze, watching as his hand trembles almost imperceptibly in your grasp. A new detail arises? You add this to his list of quirks; edgy about psychical contact, something he shared with your brother. You release his hand, acting as if you hadn't noticed his reaction to you and instead wondering if he would back out of your personal space.

He'd crossed the room during the time you'd spaced out and was now tensed in front of you. Out of the corner of your eye you observe the way his grip on the counter tightens. God, he was standing too close. Close enough for you to smell the hint of Clive Christian or notably some other luxurious cologne that mixed suitably with his aftershave. His hand hangs abandoned in the air a moment before moving to grip the counter edge just like his other one was.

You tensed yet hid the fact by bracing your elbows on the surface behind you and leaning back leisurely. He had you caged with his arms and for the first time since meeting him, you found formidable his new pokerface as impassive as your best. Damn it, what had you done? You allowed yourself to misread him; had written him off as terminally conceited. Now a split persona was emotionlessly staring back at you.

You remained silent, not giving in to the tremendous tension and merely acting as if you were wholly ignorant to the dramatic change in his demeanor. Something told you he didn't buy it. In fact when he slowly—seductively slowly—licked his lips you weren't all to surprised with the command he barked.

"Take off your glasses." He smoothly demanded, unsatisfied with your lack of apprehension. You tilt your head to the side, ready to deny him all he could ever ask of you. Up until now it had been your game, but now that your cover had been blown and the rules compromised, you had a new player. Something dark inside your mind itched to refuse this brat what he wanted, no matter what he did or said.

Oh, this would be fun indeed.

"Why would I do that?" you leisurely ask, your voice sounding as sleek and smooth as honey. You stood your ground glaring as viciously at him as he was you. It would be his anger that would make him lose the game, you predicted. He couldn't keep a cool head.

"Because I told you too." He growls leaning closer till his nose skimmed yours. In the tinted glass of his shades you could just see your reflection outlined by the dim lighting that was already failing to properly illuminate the room. He ground his teeth shifting slightly when you offer challengingly. "Commands don't work here. You want something done, do it yourself."

"I bet they're just like his." He growls, low and gravelly in his throat. He couldn't make you falter, you enjoyed his fury too much and bowing to him would only replace that irritation with triumph. "I bet you'd win that bet." You counter and besting him. You watched in amusement as he came to terms with this new brick wall. He'd have to remove your anime shades, which would definitively crown you the victor as it swapped the original challenge.

This could be dangerous though, you predicted. There was no way he was leaving without seeing your eyes and if you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you do it then he would have to. You knew he would, not being able to resist, yet how would be receive his revenge? Inevitably he would get back at you for making him lose and pissing him off. But how?

"Fine." he barked before tilting his head to the side and removing your sunglasses with his teeth. Shit. He was going with denial of your lust; coming on to you torturously but ignoring if you broke and sank to his level. How had he guessed you'd found him attractive? Or maybe his narcissism merely suggested that you would be some higher default.

You adjusted your eyes on his satisfied sneer as he reached a hand up to quickly toss them onto the counter. You couldn't question his method of removing them. It would mean admitting defeat. Great. Now you had to hid your expression from your eyes too.

"Juustt like his." he scoffs, flicking his eyes between your orange irises mockingly. You tried to keep your expression bored and eyes bland with his uninteresting play. But it interested greatly. You wondered how long you could fool him.

"Surprise, surprise." You yawn lazily raising one eyebrow in boredom. His anger flares every second you neglect to ask him to show you his eyes as it was more than evident. Lose after lose. "Wouldn't you want to see mine?" he asks seductively, paving the way for your dirty mind to take the reins. Nope. Not even going to imagine…

"Nah, I've seen Dave's." you counter, watching the look of shock slap him across the face. He just as swiftly replaced it with interest clouded by irritation. You wondered faintly if he'd threaten Social Services. Hhm. Nevermind.

"Oh?" he asks before letting the irritation take over and answer the second need. "I'm not Dave." He hisses, taking the moment to pull his lips into a twisted frown. Damn. You sure hoped he wasn't.

"I'm not Dirk." You mock when he licks his lips again and adjusts his position caging you with the counter. He was close to losing the closing game; the final round. You hoped he would have put up more of a fight. Oh well. There would be more fun to be had later, especially if he did what you figured he was about to.

"Great then." Barks before pushing his mouth into yours. You made no move, absolutely not a single muscle twitch, into kissing him back. Steeling yourself into resisting him, remaining loose as he sucked your bottom lip and abruptly moved to part your lips with his. It took all your might not reciprocate when his tongue met yours but you knew that once he became enraged at your unresponsiveness he'd break.

He slammed his fist down into the counter, biting your lip and pulling away when you didn't yell. His breathing was labored and face slightly flushed with anger. He bared his teeth, finally yelling at you loud enough to remind you of the sleeping kids in the room over. "Fuck you, sick bastard! Alright, fine! You win!" you mouth turns up in devilish smirk that strikes a flash of fear through his expression and no doubt eyes.

Checkmate.

Without a second to spare your hands grip the front of his white button-up as you slam him into the cold metal of the refrigerator. Indistinctly you hear his back pop and throat release a yelp of pain before you mouth was over his. Giving in he wrapped his arms around your waist nails scrapping against your back as he pulls your polo from the waistband of your slacks.

You needed to tilt your head deeper yet his shades kept getting in the way. Fuck it, you'd already won. And your trophy prize was yours. Roughly your hand moves from his collar to rip the aviators from his face. You hear his gasp of surprise as you recklessly toss them on the bar to your left without thinking. They skid off the side, falling to the tile with a clatter and no doubt cracking. Oops.

Your attention is back to him as his hands wonder up your back from under your untucked shirt. He digs his nails into shoulders before purposefully scratching red lines all the way to your lower back. Your breath hitched in your throat as he then snatched the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head. Allowing him to do so you pulled away from his mouth momentarily, only returning when the white fabric had landed on the floor.

"The counter or could we take this to your room?" he breathes in the hollow of your neck as you tilt your head back, catching your breath. You chuckle moving your head back around and frowning when he knocks your hat from your head with a quick swipe. He pulls the cap on his own head, biting his lip like some kind of anime babe and looking up at you from under the bill.

His left index goes to his mouth as he sucks his knuckle playfully and runs his other hand across the now bare expanse of your chest. You raise your eyebrows impressed before answering snidely. "I don't know the kitchen does have great atmosphere." He immediately frowns punching you in the chest teasingly and groaning. With a smirk you mend by saying. "Or my room. More fun there." He rolls his eyes and holy shit were they crimson.

"Jackass." He jokes taking the cap off this head and moving forward to set his arms on your shoulders. You dip down to his mouth, moving your hands to his waist you tilt your head more and capture his lips again. Just as you hooked your fingers in the belt loops of his red skinnies you felt him pushing against your chest. "Hmm?" you groan burring your face in his throat and giving his time to talk while you sucked the sensitive flesh.

"Come on." He pleads before grabbing your hands and weaseling out of your hips hold. You roll your eyes and he drags you towards the hallway, propping your hat on the lamp shade and winking at you as he did so. You chuckle lightly as turns the knob to your room and pulls you inside the dark room. You take the time to close the door behind you silently and without a second thought click the lock into place for good measure.

You waste no time in throwing him on the bed, pausing only to unbuckle your belt before straddling his hips. Mischievously he grins up at you the entire time, watching all your movements' accordingly. You crack your knuckles and hear his mocking awe of admiration. His gasp of shock elicits a snicker from you when you roughly tear his button up open. A few of the pearl buttons clatter to the floor as he leans back on his elbows and tilts his head back.

"That was Armani, I'll have you know." He hisses, hiding the way his voice shakes when you explore the expanse of his chest with your curious mouth. He wasn't ripped, you noted, but the abs of his core where no doubt reasonably defined beneath your curious touch.

"Tough shit." You mumble pushing the fabric from his shoulders and chucking it aside definitely. No way in Hell would your paycheck allow for you to replace that. Maybe you should tell 'sharing is caring'? Meh, might kill the mood, unless he was merely that kind of guy. In that case, you had plenty of toys you wagered he'd like.

"Mmhh…" he breathes satisfied when you hands move to his zipper. You quickly undo the button and pull down the zipper before hooking your fingers in the waistband. With an alluring bounty of laughter he arches his torso allowing you to pull them down before he kicks them the remaining way from his ankles. You glance down with a scoff of interest. So he was briefs kind of man. Fascinating.

You run your hands up his thighs as he shifts his legs on either side of your hips. You actually figured that there would be more of an agreement over who fucked who. Not that you were complaining, really. You were more of a pitcher than receiving anyhow. Still, this was becoming too easy…

He folds his arms behind his head leisurely and patiently waits for you to comply as he remarks challengingly.

"Your turn."


	4. Similarly Meet Your Similar

You wake with a groan, shifting into a more comfortable position against his chest. Indistinctly you realize you’ll probably never feel your legs again, as all blood flow had been cut off from them some time in the morning. Or evening, you mend squinting your eyes and glancing at the red numbers of the alarm clock on your inn table.  
Why had you fucked in the morning? Falling asleep afterwards around…8pm had it been? Shit Bro got off then and he must have checked in on you. Would he care? Pft, like you gave a gargantuan fuck what he thought about you anymore.  
But 3 in the morning? Screw that shit. You turn back over and bury your head in the hollow of his neck again. Your arm tightens around his waist when you feel him stir. You hadn’t meant to wake him up; you hadn’t known how light of a sleeper he was. Closing your eyes tighter you nuzzled your face into the sinewy space below his ribcage, feeling his hand move down your back reassuringly.   
“You awake?” he mumbles into your hair, stroking your bare back and stopping right above the two discreet dimples at your lower back when you failed to answer. Your eyelids feel heavy again and drupe under sleeps enticing hold. He aimlessly traces patterns across your hip, the light touch raising goosebumps across your exposed flesh.   
A small moan escapes your lips in an exhaled breath when his curious touch drifts ever farther down you hip and to your thigh. Your senses gradually came to awaken more thoroughly as you become aware of him. “hhmm…What year is it?” you grumble slowly while a shiver courses through your body.   
He chuckles moving his hand further down the underside of your thigh. His hand stopped under your knee and pulling you upwards. Unexpectedly you feel a blush lighting your cheeks as his hand moves back up towards your ass. Yours aren’t as curious and merely tighten their hold on the sheets as he continues.   
“In your time or mine?” he asks slowly with a chip in his voice that takes you off guard. Did he mean the timeline he came from or was he just being pissy about having to live in your modern point in time? Honestly, you’d never given it much thought; how he felt having to live here. Or wherever he and his bro’s penthouse was, that is.   
You shift against him and progressively move till you’re propped on one elbow to get a better look at him. His face is eerily impassive while his orange eyes stare contentedly up at the ceiling with nary a thought nor accusation hidden in them. You tilt your head to the side and watch his cool eyes adjust on your crimson ones without hesitation.   
“I thought you were…okay with being stuck here.” You say tentatively after the silence ebbs away. Anger—no restrained rage—flashed deep within those unusual eyes just before it was replaced with the same neutral façade that had been staring at you.   
He parts his lips silently after some time and takes a ragged breath from the conditioned Texas air to answer. “Frankly, I’d rather not discuss it.” It was final and similarly a warning to you to simply drop the subject all together. You didn’t exactly blame him as you hadn’t wanted to talk about things after the game either. What was the past was the past and there was merely no going back to change it.  
“Want anything from the kitchen.” You ask abruptly, detangling your legs from his and sitting up on your bed. He watches you intently as you throw your legs over the side of the mattress and give the floor a cursory glance before you fail to spot your boxers. Coming up short you settle for the grey sweatpants that you had worn earlier. You quickly stoop to pick them up and ignore the silence he continues to push on you.   
“Jegus Fuck…” putting a hand to your ass and straightening up gradually you turn to glare at him. Damn were you sore and at the moment you didn’t find his snide-ass sneer all too entertaining. “I told you it would hurt like hell.” He replies to your glower as you step into your sweats with disgruntled groans.   
Even though he hadn’t answered you on whether he wanted anything in particular from the kitchen you still left him with this infuriating little grin and self satisfaction. As you cracked open your door and made your way down the hallway you ran a hand through your disheveled blonde hair with a sigh.  
You’d passed your Bro’s door and once again you’d had to shove down all the self inflicted guilt that had begun plaguing you. Fuck, you seriously needed to swallow this egotistical pride and talk to him. You had been avoiding him and certainly not the other way around. Gah, sharing feelings just wasn’t the Strider quota.   
Averting your eyes and rounding the corner at the end of the hall brought you to the den. The darkness in the room that held an entertainment center and various lounging furniture was impenetrable, you thought as you flicked on the lamp by the ottoman. You attention was immediately arrested by the black hat that sat propped atop the lamp shade.   
What.   
No, he never took that fucking hat off. Your Bro was stricter about his cap than his shades for Gog’s sake and slapping that prized possession on an undeserving lamp shade wasn’t his thing. With your brow furrowed in suspicion you quickly snatched the hat from the shade and continued your merry fucking way to the kitchen. A sleuth needs a decent snack before he gets to detecting.   
Your crimson eyes adjusted gradually to the bright light of the kitchen as you tossed his hat onto the counter. With a groan you moved into the room towards the fridge, regretting ever turning the fucking light on in the first place. You had guessed something wasn’t exactly right the moment you’d found his hat. And now—now a fresh clue arose with narrowing possibilities.   
“Oh my Gog. You’ve gotta be shitting me here.” You groaned, nudging the white polo that lay on the tiled floor. Frankly, you never really thought about the fact that he rarely brought dates home. Maybe out of respect for his little brother—even though you could care less—or maybe because he wasn’t exclusively looking for it. Either way, finding discarded clothing laying around the apartment in a suggestive trail wasn’t the nicest surprise.   
Wait, whoa? Was this making you…jealous?  
“Fuck no…” you scoffed to yourself, kicking the garment towards the stove and furiously renching the fridge door open. You squinted against the harsh light that immediately poured out from the ice chest and quickly snatched a bottle of apple juice from the top shelf. Before slamming it closed with the wrath of a bratty five year old you grabbed another for Dirk and cursed yourself for giving a rat’s ass about him.   
You turn grumbling under your breathe and prying the top off one bottle before you halted in your tracks. Dave Strider doesn’t have melodramatic heart attacks over Hitchcock scares, but at the moment your status quo changed. You’re A.J. fell from your hand to thump and roll across the tile with a theatrical spill that matched your perplexed expression.   
It wasn’t completely your fault that your face was showing the entirety of your blatant astonishment nor were you to blame for the fallen apple comrade that was pooling at your feet. Your mouth hung open slightly and matched the wide crimson eyes that stared incredulously at the figure in front of them. Against all your mind commands, you stayed frozen as he sauntered forward and leisurely examined you like a lab experiment.   
“Damn, ‘lil me,” he began with his face hovering inches in front of yours and hand slowly moving up to grip your jaw. “It’s like looking in a mirror. Hm, well almost.” Your ecto-self finished with a smirk as he tilted your head to the side to get a better look at you. His eyes seemed to linger on the hickies that no doubt dotted your throat. Fuck, Dirk had even left them on your damn thighs. As a response, your muscles tensed and face suddenly changing to the impassiveness you hoped he buy and prayed would hide your blush.  
“Don’t—” you had began after collecting yourself from the initial shock of meeting the last human on earth you’d wanted to see. Maybe that’s the reason you’d been so steeled against meeting him. It was a gut reaction; thinking he was just another doomed Dave by the Knight of Time. He sure as hell looked like you; given that he was older. He was handsome with his features being more angular and less rounded than they were in your developing youth.   
Fuck, it made you cringe just thinking about it.   
He’d noticed your grimace and looked up to read the disgust on your face. Immediately he raised a well-sculpted eyebrow and moved his hands from your face to be resting lightly on your shoulders. You wished he wouldn’t touch you; would back the hell off and leave you be. Why was he here anyhow? Standing in your kitchen in briefs and an open white fasten up that seemed to be lacking most of its buttons.   
Oh fuck no he didn’t.   
“Wait,” you say, suddenly finding use of your limbs and pushing him from you. Taking a step back brought the shockingly cool surface of the fridge to your bare back but put you both at a suitable length. “What the fuck are you doing here?”   
He cracks a grin and stares back at you with mock insult plastered onto his face. There’s skepticism in your crimson eyes as you glare right back at him just as intensely and feel your hands clenching into fists. Holy shit were his eyes red; your crimson red. And it pissed you off just as thoroughly.   
“I wanted to meet Dirk’s ‘clone’ or whatever you’ve started calling us.” He says with a gesture of his hand to nothing in particular. Narrowing your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest you drew in a breath to tell him off yet he interrupted. “And you Dave, of course.”   
“Right, right of course.” You mocked while turning your attention elsewhere. The hems of your sweat pants had soaked up a portion of the juice yet left plenty for you so mop up. Without another thought you moved to grab a roll of paper towels from the counter and thoroughly attempting to ignore him. This was harder than you’d thought seeing how he kept intently watching your every move and muscle twitch. What, was he inspecting you for quality?   
Bending down on your knees and sopping up the sticky apple juice you saw out of the corner of your eye that he’d moved to lean against the adjacent kitchen surface. It freaked you out just a bit, the way he was watching you, that is. You figured he was cataloging your respective qualities for future reference; just in case he needed an organ donor.   
“Do you have a birthmark on the right cheek of your ass?” stopping your cleaning you slowly turned your head to look at him for asking you the most outrageous question. Blowing a strand of your bangs from your eyes and glaring intensely at him, you snap. “I wouldn’t tell you if I did, fucking creeper.”   
The corners of his lips lift upwards in a slight smile. “I suppose I could just ask Dirk.” He replies smugly. The light dusting of a blush that burned across your freckles had told him all that he needed to know. Tiling his head to the side, he answers coolly and ignores your rudeness.   
“So do I. Great to know this ectobiology shit is fairly exac—” cutting him off as your frustration amounted, you quickly barked out. “Listen, I didn’t want to meet you and I sure as hell don’t want to compare fucking dick lengths.”   
You could tell he was the slightest bit peeved yet entertained by your attitude. Maybe in that fucked over head of yours he was check marking all the qualities you had in common. A temper would certainly be among those of the more flippant habits.   
“How crass, Dave, really. I’m hurt.” He mocks you with that hinged sneer starting to pull at his lips. With a groan you got to your feet and bunched the soiled paper towel in your hands as you made your way to the trash can. Faintly, you wondered if he questioned why your movements were stiffer around your hips yet concluded victoriously that he already knew.   
“So tell me. Did my lil bro really fuck you?” he asked as more of a statement, just to let you know he was fully aware of your little fling. Your foot stomped with unnecessary force onto the paddle that would bring the lid of the trashbin up. You would not explode at this…it was what he wanted…you could handle this coolly…  
“Apparently we’re all screwed over in the heads here. I mean, don’t get me wrong, your brother was—fuck—he was amazing and not that it counts as incest, per se. But frankly, I never thought he’d get involved with you what with the sexual tensio—” he’d done perfectly in breaking your barriers and completely shattering your cool. That being said it wasn’t entirely your fault that you exploded with him. 

“You fucked with Bro? Sick bastard, he’s practically Dirk. Why the hell would you even consider…” you trailed off with a glower at his positively beaming face and lapsed into a sweltering pause. He’d gotten you right there. Made you call yourself a hypocrite with all your anger and now a bitter taste was left in your mouth. Fuck, did you hate this jackass, you thought as your hand tightened around the bottle of A.J. you’d gotten for Dirk that hadn’t just been moped from the floor.  
“I, ah, heard yelling. You alright?” you snap your head over to adjust your fire and brimstone scowl on the unfortunate teen standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He fully clothed now and even though his eyes where behind those ridiculous anime shades, you knew they were darting between his bro and you.  
“Yeah. Fucking peachy. Glad you could join our family reunion.” It certainly wasn’t fair to him for you push your anger on his too but you still found yourself snapping at him like that. His lips parted slightly to answer you while he shoved his hand deep into his black jeans. Why was he dressed, anyhow? It was almost 3 in the morning?   
“I didn’t think you’d want me here so,” he paused as he walked around the counter when his eyes landed on something of greater interest. Bending down with agile ease and snatching the black aviators off the tile, he shot you a quipped look before handing them in the direction of his brother. Yours were on the nightstand of your room right where they’d been left.   
Both of the Dave’s in the room watched as his eyes then settled on the white polo you’d kicked earlier. How would he react to putting the puzzle pieces together and figuring out what’d gone down? You sincerely hoped he might just get mad at his brother or at the least would be on your side. Not that you were handling this like a child or anything.   
His face remained seemingly impassive yet you’d caught the subtle way his jaw had tightened. With all your resolve being thrown out the window, you moved forward to lightly grasp his forearm. He looks over at you, tearing his eyes away from polo and instead meeting yours from behind his shades.  
“It’s like three AM…” you scoff, knowing your face would be dusting over lightly with a subtle blush. The corner of his lips twitches up slightly in a clever smirk before he nods almost imperceptibly in confirmation at you. So at least you figured he’d stay.   
“I thought you were still gone on business checking out the marketing plan for—” Dirk was interrupted by the same jackass with your face that he was addressing. Your eyes flicked back to Dirk’s bro as he stated in a slightly irked voice that succeeded in chipping at your nerves.   
“There’s another film coming this June that’s too demographically similar so I postponed the campaign.” He says flicking those crimson eyes on you dangerous before he reaches forward to snap the bottle of apple juice from your hands. Your empty hand curls into a fist as he turns on his heel and promptly begins crossing the kitchen.  
“Wouldn’t want to hurt box office appeal.” He throws over his shoulder, exciting the kitchen and moving into the darkness of the living room. The silence was extended until you heard the soft closing of a door down the hall that was no doubt when he returned to your bro’s room. He could shove that apple juice up his ass for all you cared.  
You look over to Dirk for confirmation of that jackass’s behavior to see his hands are shoved in his jeans pockets and mouth set in a slightly reassuring smirk. He watches you passively for a moment before drawing in a slight breath passively say,  
“If it’s any solace, I don’t think he’s like you do.”


	5. Trust and Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry that I haven't posted in like idk 2 years or however long it's been. I've still been here; thinking and sharing oxygen with the greater population of humans. I suppose I just haven't had time, what with college. So, in short, I apologize for my hiatus and thank those of you who had stayed with me or read these fics and enjoyed them. This is for you.

His eyes watched your every move and followed your every thought. With anyone else, the unnecessary vigilance might of unsettled you but with him the silence became oddly comfortable. Besides, you knew he was just studying you to try and find some kind of understanding of your existence. Or at least that’s what you assumed.   
“Can you hand me that—” looking over to his outstretched hand you saw that he’d already guessed what you’d need or ask. It didn’t really freak you out but more so was intriguing, you thought as your hand reached over to snatch the wire cutters from him and set back to work. He leaned back against the ledge of the workbench and eyed the explosion of multicolored wires that bloomed haphazardly from your robots chest.   
Or the one that you had given your alternate ecto-self, that is. You sat crisscross atop the workbench in that ‘man cave’ deemed room of Bro’s and Dave apartment. Frankly, it was more of loft that had stairs to allow access to the rooftop. No way in hell would you suggest going up there right about now, though. Today was record breaking highs under the Texas heat for the history books.   
When the apartment had been yours on a platform in the middle of an ocean it had been substantially cooler from the wind currents that swathed up from the sea, you remembered. Screw that. Your brother may have adjusted perfectly to the ‘Shift’ but you couldn’t have disagreed with this more. Now skyscrapers dominated the skyline and plucked your endless ocean view behind soaring towers. This ocean was shit anyhow; polluted beyond repair and just as wretched.   
As if it couldn’t get worse your cell toned from atop the counter adjacent to where you sat. It was English; you were sure of it from the ringtone he’d set for himself. God, did your social issues have to arise with your mental ones too? And at equivalent times?   
You slam the wire cutters down on the black metal table, grinding your teeth and pushing the blunt of your palm against the area above your left eye. A fresh migraine throbbed there when you tried dwelling on the past. Or future. You were stuck in their present.   
“Need a break?” Dave’s Bro asks, uncrossing his arms from his chest and edging forward. He wouldn’t ask about the cold shoulder you gave your cells alert. He more than likely was aware of it anyhow. At the moment you couldn’t exactly withstand a barrage of question anyhow.  
You flash him your palm, stopping him while you reached up to rip your shades from your face and chuck them aside. At the moment you couldn’t give a shit less that they clattered to the tile below or that for once, someone was watching you with genuine concern.   
A frustrated groan grinds out from your throat as you rub the palms of your hands into your eyes. Elbows on your knees you stay like that for what feels like weeks as you brood over trivial matters you’d otherwise ignore. Except to you they weren’t just as inconsequential as everyone brushed them off to be.   
It wasn’t like you had especially enjoyed living on a planet with a human population of two, but somehow you were merely more adjusted to that than being surrounded by people. Millions of people everywhere; so loud, so tangible, so inconsiderate of your space, so real, so strange. Nothing here was proverbial. It was a far earlier time from yours yet living here you were even denied the only sliver of marginal familiarity. That little shit in the aviators had made sure of that.   
You weren’t even entirely positive why he firmly stood against you moving into your own apartment. Nope. Not a clue. Yet now you upheld a penthouse with your Bro—even if he was gone the majority of the time—so fuck that brat. Oh wait. You had.  
“Timeline shit, again?” he asks tentatively once your muscles seemed to have lost a bit of tension. You take in a deep breath and roll you head to the side in your hands to glance at him. His face remained impassive yet you effortlessly caught the subtle signs of his concern. His lips were pressed in a firm line and jaw taught enough to tell you all that you needed to know.  
“I suppose you could say that.” You mutter rubbing your face before pushing your hands through your hair. Without giving yourself another second to pathetically wallow in self conflicts, you sit up and turn your attention back to Sawtooth. He wasn’t as interesting as he had been; yet another thing dulled by your shifted timelines. Though if a modern engineer of Dave’s age could get a hold of this bot, you’d wager the century would be rocketed into robotic innovation.   
You grabbed the wire cutters and snipped at two wires that you continued to hold between your thumb and index while you reached for the roll of black electrical tape resting by your knee. Using one hand you brought it to your mouth and ripped a sizeable strip off. Tossing it back down you used the piece you’d taken to attach the new wires to close the circuit. At the moment you were far too impatient to get up and fish a neon orange cap from the jar at the end of the bench to properly adjoin the wires. Or maybe lazy was the better word.  
“I’ll need to take him back with me for a while…” You say absently mindedly, thinking of Squarewave sitting deactivated and rusting alone in your workroom. It wasn’t fair to either of them. Why you’d separated them in the first place was beyond you at the moment. You even cracked a smirk thinking Saw had shorted out from heartbreak.   
He hadn’t answered you, neither consenting nor denying your request. You doubted he’d care though and might just let you keep him. Or re-keep since he had technically been a gift from you. Either way, you figured reuniting them would serve as your good deed of the day and may just spice up your karma.   
Your hands worked quickly to finish capping the excess wires and threading them back into the chest cavity of the robot. Shifting up on your knees you leaned forward to reach for the panel to secure the opening as well as a Philips head to screw to it back in place; the muscles in your back stretch achingly from being inactive as you’d sat indulged in the wired mess. Sitting back once more you placed the metal hatch over it and tightened the loosened screws till it creaked in protest.   
“Give the operating system time to adjust and let ‘em test out the circuits.” You say uncrossing your legs and bracing yourself on the table to throw your legs over the side. “I’ll have to come back for him lat—” he’d cut you off and took you by surprise when that silent statue had finally decided to make a move. Dave’s Bro was far more interesting than yours, you thought as you sized him up.  
Your legs framed his hips and hung limply from the workbench table he’d caged you on. His hands were firmly planted on the table at either side of your thighs as his eyes bored into yours from behind his shades just as intensely.   
“You fucked Dave?” he asks in a condemning tone that was far more statement than question. You thought it to be pretty ironic that he’d suddenly become protective of his sibling and especially in his specific way. After what he had done first, that is. You didn’t say this, but you knew it showed on your face.   
You saw the muscles in his jaw twitch as he narrowed his eyebrows at you accusingly. It didn’t bother you too extensively that you weren’t wearing your shades; it never had with him, for some reason. You felt your mouth pulling to the side in a half sneer that only made him tense more. It wasn’t as if you purposely aimed to taunt him.   
His words had just struck a deep cord buried beneath denial about your relationship with your brother. Or so it felt to your subconscious, that is. But maybe it was something that ran exclusively that way? It wasn’t like you’d gotten to know Dave that well. You were just hormonal teenagers looking for a good fuck, or so you’d convinced yourself.  
“Jealous?” you mock, perplexed the words had blurted from your mouth. Shit, you hadn’t meant to say that?! It was certainly like a slap to the face to him, you gathered, yet he took it well. Any other person wouldn’t have even noticed the way in which his demeanor changed ever so subtly.   
“Don’t screw with his head like that, Dirk.” He growls in voice full of the restraint of anger you certainly didn’t blame him for having. Oh course, you hadn’t been just ‘screwing with his head’ when you’d done it. Maybe a bit of manipulation. Some coercing…but it had been consensual. Definitely consensual.   
“It wasn’t like that.” You say looking away from him and focusing on the fridge that hummed idly to distract you. To be honest, you knew he would be able to read your eyes and see just what you’d been thinking. Had it been out of respect or embarrassment that you wanted to hide those dirty details from him?   
“Oh? So you’re not to blame for the fact that he’s been avoiding me for two weeks? Besides what I was responsible for.” he asks venom leaking into his tone as he adds that last bit. His seemingly infinite patience only extended so far, you realized. Technically, you thought, it was not your fault. He had made the first move and subliminally planted that seed in Dave’s mind. It happened that it was you who had the same face as he did.   
He shakes his head lightly, causing the overhead fluorescents to glint in his sunglasses. Your own image was reflected in the black anime shades and stared back at you despondently. Why couldn’t he just drop it? Dave wasn’t too enthused to chat with you either and when he did it seemed he was restraining himself. Like he’d been pushed too far and had shut down because of what you and his brother had done with him. Great.   
“Do you know what he came damn near to calling me yesterday? When I finally coaxed a word out of him.” he asks, bringing his hands from the surface of the workbench and instead grabbing fistfuls of the hem of your black wifebeater. His posture bent slightly as he leaned into your face to say in a clipped pitch. “Dirk.”  
Your eyebrows knitted together and your own hands formed fists as you defiantly crossed your arms across your chest. He couldn’t be serious. He was just screwing with you right now. No doubt jibbing back at you for some jovial jest you’d shared and lacked retribution.   
“I sincerely doubt he wouldn’t be able to tell the, ah, difference.” You reply quickly after pulling your face back to his hesitantly. He looked pissed. Thoroughly pissed. But what if Dave was suffering from more than the whiplash of the post-game world? It felt like dusk was settling on a crime scene, you summed up, thinking all the Beta and Alpha kids were fucked up in the head from the game yet no one was talking about it. Like an elephant in the room that was stifling everyone with his pressing weight.   
If you’d pushed him too far he might just retaliate. That meaning some infamous strife that should no doubt be recorded in history and capped for the silver screen. What a redoubtable opponent he’d be. Would he fight exactly as you or possess some unexpected skill you couldn’t counter? The competitive and curious spectrum of your mind ached to know; to see him in action.   
“I wasn’t the one who screwed up.” You chide already hating the tone your voice implied. This wasn’t normal behavior for you and only emphasized the imminent dangers of your curiosity. It was inevitable, you gather, that the two of you sparred—however short the battle may be. Besides, a winner may not be crowned.  
“Is that right?” he growls low in his throat with enough malice to offset any valiant hero. His jaw tightened in irritation when your smirk lost its ground and slipped marginally. He was grown man; stronger than you and larger than you. You needed an unbreakable and infinitely grand katana. Now.  
“The only person he’ll talk with is Rose and even she felt the need to contact me about it. Before you and I did what we did with him she told me that I should give him space. I didn’t understand why, Hell I’d barely said two words to him; how could I give him anymore space than that?” You finally say when he finally sets his jaw and you finally attempt to brush the attitude from your voice if not marginally.   
You shouldn’t be taking your anger, stress, and exhaustion out on him. Hell you shouldn’t of used Dave for an outlet either. That’s what Roxy would be chiding you about right now, you wagered. In any case it wasn’t even slightly fair to either of them for you to be screwing around with their heads.   
“That’s why I came over that day we fooled around—to see what the hell was up with him. I swear I didn’t know what he was feeling. Rose only called me again to tell me why I shouldn’t stay away after he spilled everything to her about what we did.” You finish, hating the way this must have sounded. But it was true.   
You’d already tried blaming her for not telling you why you should’ve given him space but you couldn’t; she had warned you and if she was anything like Roxy was to you then you should have just listened and obeyed without question. You only had yourself to blame for messing with Dave’s head and possibly ruining his relationship with his brother.   
“I—I apologize if this screws up things with you.” he watches you closely under the fluorescent light and in return your eyes flit around his face just as closely. Your face in a few years, you thought. Although you hoped you wouldn’t turn out to be as guarded. If that damned game taught you anything, it was to appreciate life.  
“He’ll get over it eventually.” He states punctually, moving from the workbench you sat upon to uncage you. That couldn’t be the extent to your radical punishment, you reasoned as he stepped back to leaning against the table opposite the one you currently sat upon. He still watched you narrowly yet now you were beginning to question him unlike you ever had.   
Something was…off with him. Almost as if he was holding dire information back or like someone with a guilty conscious. You could just sense it under that façade that you only hoped you’d come near to mastering one day. It was there in the way he had physically removed himself from that last comment; standing back and putting actual space between you.  
“But what?” you say, less than pleased yet intrigued by this. So it would seem you were learning to understand your ecto-self better, you realized when he tilted his head back to look at you wider angle. Subconsciously, you knew exactly why he was holding back the harassment as he was overly protective of Dave.   
“Are you holding back because you fucked my brother?” you were impressed to say your tone was controlled and the attitude kept to a teeth grinding minimum. Oddly, you didn’t aim to throw this in his face or call him out on being a hypocrite.  
In your eyes, no it wasn’t fair that he was harassing you about what you did with Dave. But they were adults and you could hardly care less or count the amount of chicks and dudes your bro brought home, even if it irked you that one guy was Dave’s bro.   
“It does make me hypocrite in a sense but I’m just looking out for Dave, alright? He’s a kid, he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.” He finally answers after drawing a breath to calm his nerves. Dave was hardly a child. He’d grown so much in the time that had passed in the game. Perhaps him the most, that is, because of his aspect. You had been intrigued with his role in and being of time. You’d wanted to ask him how it worked; how did he know he was the original Dave? How many doomed Daves were there? Could he feel all those different timelines?  
“He’s not a kid. None of us are anymore. He was Progression—Time. If anything he grew the most.” You say, a protective growl in your voice that surprised even you. You were certainly sticking up for him and in a vague way, you found it to be something you felt more responsible for than obliged to do. But no it wasn’t that you felt he needed protecting; he could hold his own. However, he did need a friend and a confidant to rely on that understood his issues. Dave’s Bro couldn’t be that for he didn’t remember and couldn’t sympathize with Dave’s introspective conflict. But you could, and you wanted to,   
“I’m going to be there for him. It wasn’t my intention to toy with him and I don’t aim to manipulate him for another purpose. I understand what he is going through.” The look he gives you, like he’s pondering whether you’re truthful or whether you’re pulling strings. Though you left your face open and eyes unveiled, he seemed to deliberate for ages. Ironically, it seemed time had fled from your dispute.   
“I can trust you?” he asks, simply yet with as much emotion you’d ever heard in his bright bass voice. Yes, wholly. This wasn’t a matter which you’d joke about or take lightly. This was no longer and game. Actions were set in stone, decisions had unpredictable outcomes, and the consequences couldn’t be so easily repealed. There was no algorithm or cheat code or online walkthrough for which you could reap the normally unattainable benefits with. Everything must come to an end, even the falsity of the game that had been your reality for so long.   
“Yes. You can.”


End file.
